There's Nothing Sunny About Sunny Glade
by roguewriter729
Summary: Shawn, a remote cabin in the wilderness, and an upcoming storm equal a recipe for disaster.
1. Chapter 1

Wow, this show is very addictive! This is my 2nd Psych story, and will probably be about 3-4 chapters long. I have a basic outline and hope to update soon. Be warned, the h/c portion of our program will begin in the 2nd chapter - happy reading!

Shawn Spencer was in Hell. OK, maybe not the conventional Hell - fire, brimstone, Satan, and all that jazz - but definitely a close approximation. His dad had finally conned him into a "father and son bonding weekend" at a wilderness retreat located a hundred miles from nowhere. Henry was currently standing at the counter of the small convenience store at the retreat's entrance, stocking up on perishable items. Shawn considered it a small miracle that due to the endangered species living on the premises, fishing was not allowed. One less torturous activity to do. However, the weather forecast called for severe thunderstorms, so he'd be stuck in a remote cabin with his dad for the entire time. And to add insult to injury, his father chose the cabin furthest from any other form of human contact, claiming it made the whole experience more "enjoyable." Things couldn't get much worse. . .

"You've GOT to be kidding me!" Shawn exclaimed softly, staring at the door to the store which had just swung open to reveal none other than Carlton Lassiter. "There's something worse than Hell - and I'm in it."

Of course, Lassiter saw him right away and grimaced, obviously having the same thought as Shawn. What the heck were the odds? Maybe he could cut his dad off and keep him from seeing this new development. . . ah crap.

"Lassiter! I had no idea you were so in tune with nature," said Henry good-naturedly, approaching the detective. No avoiding it now - Shawn eased his way over to try and make the best of a rapidly declining situation.

"Hey, Lassie - what brings you to these parts? Looking for a little solitude - or wait, my senses are picking up something else . . . " Shawn looked behind him at the object of Lassiter's quick, furtive glance. One of the retreat guides, a tall blonde whose name tag read "Missy," smiled broadly, cried "Carlton!" and made her way over. Shawn waggled his eyebrows at Lassiter, Henry simply rolled his eyes, and Lassiter looked mortified.

"Not a word, Spencer," Lassiter hissed under his breath. "Missy, so good to see you again! I had no idea you'd be working this weekend."

"Hi, all! Welcome to the Sunny Glade Wilderness Retreat - Carlton, introduce me to your friends!"

"Why I'm Shawn, and this is my father Daddy Warbucks" said Shawn jovially. "And how exactly do you know our dear friend Carlton?"

If looks could kill, Shawn knew he'd be dead. Lassiter was currently trying to drill a hole through his head with nothing but his pupils. "We met at a Friends of the Wild convention in town," Missy enthused, "And since Carlton is such a nature-lover, I invited him out to our retreat."

"Oh yes, Carlton does love nature," replied Shawn innocently, "Why he even leaves the lid off his garbage can at night so the poor raccoons don't injure themselves while attempting to steal his trash."

Henry rolled his eyes again. If he does that much more, Shawn thought idly, his eyes will stick that way.

Missy looked at Shawn blankly for a moment, then the broad smile returned. "Well, I have to finish checking in the guests - going to be a long night. Good to see you, Carlton!"

As she bounced off, Lassiter just stared after her, clearly smitten and at a loss for words.

"Cat got your tongue, Lassie? Or maybe it was the raccoon?" Shawn poked.

"OK, enough!" Henry intervened before Lassiter could actually murder his son. "Detective, would you like to join Shawn and I for dinner tonight?"

"What?" Shawn stuttered, aghast. "Actually, that would be lovely, Henry," Lassiter replied with a broad grin.

"Good, we'll see you at 6:00. Let's go, Shawn, plenty of work to be done," Henry said, grabbing Shawn's arm and dragging him out of the store. Glancing back, Shawn saw Lassiter's smile turn gleeful as he mouthed "Payback is Hell" for Shawn's eyes only. Shawn sighed - there was that word again, Hell. He was so screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the great reviews! Here's chapter 2, hope you enjoy.

Shawn sighed. Six o'clock had rolled around way too quickly, and now Lassiter was at the cabin being regaled by humiliating stories of Shawn's childhood while Henry brewed after-dinner coffee. Every so often, Lassie would go "oh, really" in a mock-innocent tone and grin disturbingly at Shawn. This had been going on for the past hour, and Shawn was ready to saw off his ears with a steak knife rather than listen to one more tale of his misbegotten youth.

"Shawn, why don't you go get some more firewood before the rain starts? Looks like it's going to get pretty cold tonight," Henry said.

"You want ME to get firewood? In the woods? Alone?" Shawn squeaked out, appalled. True, he wanted to get away from Lassie, but he was hoping the detective would just leave.

"Did I stutter? Besides, you're past the age where I need to hold your hand," Henry smirked, knowing this would get the desired reaction. Lassiter suppressed a chuckle - Shawn and Henry were always good for a few laughs.

"Fine, but if I get eaten by a bear, I'm coming back to haunt you!" Shawn grumbled, grabbing his coat and stalking out the door. Muttering to himself, he stormed into the forest behind the cabin.

___________

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn finally slowed down and took a good look around. It was then he realized he was completely lost. "Great, just great - and now it's starting to rain" he said, exasperated by the turn of events. The rain went from a trickle to a heavy pounding within minutes, plastering his hair and clothing and soaking him through. "I swear, the universe is aligned against me - Gus, wherever you are, you better be enjoying this moment of freedom because when I get back, you are going to hear it for letting me go on this stupid freakin' trip!"

Suddenly, a noise from deeper in the forest halted Shawn's diatribe. He could swear it was voices, and slowly started creeping toward the sound. Later, he couldn't say why he was so cautious- well, actually, he'd tell everyone it was a psychic premonition - but as he halted behind the cover of a tree, he was glad for the foresight. Two men were examining a cage on the ground between them, and he could just pick out their conversation over the wind, which had begun to howl in earnest.

"This is the third empty trap in days! Do you think they're onto us?" said the shorter of the two.

"Nah, just bad luck is all. We've been poaching here for the past 6 months, and no one's been the wiser. There ain't no reason to think they've caught on yet - look, we didn't see any human tracks before this damn rain started, 'cept for ours."

"I guess," said Shorty, looking around warily in spite of the reassurance. A sudden flash of red in the distance caught his eye. "Hey, looks like there's something out there!"

'Crap - stupid red flannel shirt,' Shawn thought, pulling his jacket tight to cover the offending fabric and inching out from behind the tree in preparation to run. With the rain driving down in earnest, he doubted they'd see more than a blur.

A second later, a bolt of pain flashed through his leg, and Shawn looked down in surprise to see the handle of a large knife protruding from his thigh.

"I think I got it - I'm going to check it out" shouted Tall guy.

Shawn had moments to think - and to thank God for temporary shock. He grasped the knife handle, and praying no major arteries were hit, pulled it out of his leg. Wiping the blade with a swipe of his jacket and letting the rain take care of the rest, he half ran, half stumbled off into the surrounding trees. Stopping behind one a few feet away, he listened.

"Damn, missed it!" came Tall guy's shout. "Probably our dinner, too. This day sucks - let's get out of this rain. We'll head back in tomorrow."

Shawn wiped a hand over his eyes in relief. It was then that the pain began pulsing through his injured limb. 'Gotta get back to the cabin' he thought anxiously, pulling off his sodden coat and tying it haphazardly around his thigh. Biting back a cry, he limped off in the direction he thought he'd come from - it was as good as any, given the circumstances.

___________

Henry glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that a half an hour had gone by. It suddenly hit him that the rain was beating down on the cabin and Shawn still wasn't back. Even if he hadn't found any wood, he certainly wouldn't have stayed out in a thunderstorm.

Lassiter glanced up too, and a frown creased his face. "Where the heck is Spencer? Did he fly to the Amazon for the wood?"

"This isn't like him," Henry murmured, standing to stare out the window. "We need to go look for him."

"I knew you were going to say that," Lassiter sighed, watching as Henry pulled two rain slickers and a couple of flashlights from a nearby closet. "He just can't stay out of trouble, can he?"

"Not since I've known him," Henry replied with a weak grin. "Let's get moving."

"Spencer, if this is some kind of a joke I swear to God you will pay," Lassiter growled as he followed Henry out into the storm.

___________

An hour later, the storm continued with a fury and the mud on the ground was getting too thick to wade through with conventional shoes. Lassiter continued to growl out threats against Shawn to himself as he followed Henry, but they were becoming weaker as a nagging sense of worry replaced his anger. Something was clearly wrong - even Shawn wouldn't take a prank this far, especially given the deteriorating weather.

Henry suddenly stopped and pointed at a tree up ahead. "There he is!" he shouted to be heard over the wind, and slogged over to a body propped against the bark.

Lassiter went down on one knee, heedless of the mud. Shawn was clearly unconscious, but what disturbed Lassiter more was the fact that his jacket was wrapped around his leg instead of on his back where it belonged.

"He's hurt," Lassiter yelled up to Henry, "We need to get him back to the cabin now!"

Nodding stiffly, Henry grabbed one arm while Lassiter took the other, and they began the slow process of dragging Shawn back to the relative safety of the retreat.


	3. Chapter 3

And here goes chapter 3 - thank you again for all of the wonderful reviews! There will be one more brief chapter to wrap things up after this one - enjoy!

Shawn slowly regained consciousness just as Henry and Lassiter pulled him through the door of the cabin. 'Couldn't wake up earlier, had to make us drag him all the way back,' thought Lassiter grudgingly. 'Typical Spencer.'

"The one time I actually find myself wishing for modern technology," Henry growled as they gently placed Shawn in a chair by the fireplace. "I'd kill for a cell phone tower right about now, and from the looks of the mud out there, we aren't going anywhere soon."

Lassiter reached over and flicked on the battery powered radio sitting in the corner while Henry gently tapped Shawn's cheek.

"Hey kid, time to wake up."

"I'm awake already," Shawn murmured, turning his head away. 'Wow, when did it get so cold,' he thought numbly as chills raced through his body, 'and why is my leg on fire? Man, this cannot be good. Why is it always me?'

"Lassiter, we need to get him dry and figure out what the hell happened," Henry said anxiously.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Lassiter replied sarcastically, but sighed as guilt washed over him a second later. "Sorry, that was uncalled for - OK, let's see what your kid's gotten himself into this time."

"Um, still here," Shawn said, annoyed in spite of the pain clouding his thoughts. "You could at least include me in this rousing conversation!"

"Can it, Spencer, and just let us help you for a change."

Admittedly, being warm and pain-free again would be nice. Shawn decided to allow his dad and Lassie to help him out, just this once. A few seconds later, though, his mind was quickly changed. While Lassie propped him up, his dad gently pulled the jacket off his leg and started undressing him. At some point, a pile of towels had miraculously appeared on the couch nearby.

"Hey, what am I, a slab of meat?" Shawn quipped, teeth gritted through the agonizing torture of having his jeans pulled carefully off his blood-soaked leg. "Lassie, try not to get too jealous when you see my glorious physique."

Any comment Lassiter planned on making in return was forestalled by the gruesome site of the knife wound in Shawn's thigh. The ragged hole was still bleeding, albeit sluggishly, and looked red and ragged around the edges. Shawn swallowed down his rising nausea and turned his face into Lassiter's shoulder, causing the detective to grunt softly in surprise.

Henry made quick work of Shawn's clothes, and soon they had maneuvered him, clad only in boxers and a tee shirt, onto the couch. They proceeded to wrap him in the dry towels, leaving only his damaged right thigh exposed.

"Damn it, kid, you never do things the easy way," Henry said, shaking his head sadly at the trembling form before him. He felt an overwhelming desire to simply hold his son and reassure himself that Shawn was alive, but right now they had to clean his wound and hope the storm would abate soon. As if on cue, a local weather report emitted from the radio.

". . . severe flooding in the area. . . downed trees. . . road into Sunny Vale washed out by mud. . . expected to last into the morning."

"Well, I guess we're going to be stuck here until morning," said Lassiter uneasily. He had already started unpacking the first-aid kit, but worry was eating at him when he thought of the injured psychic.

"Don't get all serious on me, Lassie," Shawn slurred out, exhaustion and pain finally starting to wear him down. "I'm sure you two boy scouts will have me right as rain - no pun intended - in no time."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Henry, hold him down," he said as he prepared to clean the wound. Henry grabbed Shawn's shoulders and pushed him farther into the couch. Shawn suddenly started to squirm, forgetting how cold he was in his sudden panic to escape this new torture.

Trying his best to ignore Shawn's pleading looks, Lassiter began disinfecting the area around the wound and pulling out little bits of debris with a set of tweezers. Shawn's first agonized scream caused both men to flinch, Henry momentarily closing his eyes with sadness. After a few minutes, the screams died down to choking sobs, followed mercifully by silence as Shawn slipped once more into oblivion.

Once the wound was clean, Lassiter bandaged the area tightly to stop the bleeding which had begun again in earnest. Henry then covered Shawn completely with blankets and towels, and both men sat back, drained.

"What the hell happened to him?" Lassiter asked wonderingly. "He went out to get wood, for Pete's sake! When he wakes up again, Spencer's going to have some serious explaining to do."

"Right now, you and I should get dried off and get a fire going," Henry said tiredly. "It's going to be a long night."

________________

Two hours later, Lassiter and Henry were both sitting by the fire watching as Shawn tossed and turned on the couch. They'd tried playing cards, but neither man could keep his mind off of the night's events. Shawn had developed a fever about 30 minutes prior, and a look at the wound in his thigh had confirmed Lassiter's suspicion of infection.

"I must have missed some of the debris," Lassiter sighed, shaking his head.

"Not your fault, you did the best you could," Henry replied, soaking another washcloth in cold water and draping it over Shawn's forehead. "Let's just hope we can keep his fever down. I wish he'd wake up, even for a minute, so we could get some aspirin and water into him."

"Your kid's stubborn," said Lassiter, a tiny note of affection creeping into his voice. "He'll wake up when he feels like it."

"Preaching to the choir," Henry murmured, gazing fondly at his son.

"I suppose we should take turns sitting with him so we don't drop from exhaustion ourselves," Lassiter voiced out hesitantly. Clearly, the thought of playing nursemaid to Shawn was slightly unnerving to him.

"Good idea. I'll take the first shift," Henry offered, much to Lassiter's relief. "I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Alright, shout if you need me." Lassiter levered himself out of the chair, and, with a final glance back at Shawn, moved off into the bedroom.

_________________

The rest of the night passed much too slowly for Lassiter's liking. After a few hours of rest, he relieved Henry, who reported that Shawn's condition hadn't changed. Lassiter spent the next few hours trying to keep Shawn cool, checking his wound for any new signs of trouble, and attempting to sooth the psychic's fevered dreams. The last part was exceedingly uncomfortable, as Lassiter didn't think of himself as a "sensitive" kind of guy. Since Shawn was unconscious, though, he figured a few words of comfort couldn't hurt.

When it came time for Henry to take over, it was close to dawn and Lassiter found he couldn't sleep anymore. Both men alternated sitting by the couch and staring out the window, willing the rain to stop. Finally, around 7:00 am, the storm began to let up. At the same time, Shawn opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at his surroundings.

"What the. . . ? What's going on?" he croaked out.

Henry grabbed a glass of water from the table and carefully propped Shawn up so he could drink. 'God, water never tasted so good,' Shawn thought sleepily.

"Welcome back," Lassiter grinned down at him. "Nice of you to finally rejoin us."

"Fever's down," Henry remarked, laying one hand over Shawn's forehead. As Shawn attempted to twist away from the contact, he suddenly became aware of the pulsing pain shooting up from his leg.

"Ahhhh!," he cried out, hand automatically reaching for the offending limb.

"No touching!," Lassiter growled, slapping his hand away. "You'll undo all of my hard work." Then he softened, knowing the agony Shawn must be feeling. "I'm sorry we don't have any pain meds, but the storm is letting up so hopefully we can reach civilization and a decent hospital soon."

"Great, I love hospitals," Shawn ground out, panting slightly against the pain. Henry was stroking his hair absentmindedly, but Shawn didn't seem to mind. The motion was actually distracting him from his leg, which was welcome at the moment.

"Shawn, what happened out there," Henry said, a question that had plagued both him and Lassiter for most of the night.

"Stupid, really," Shawn said, shaking his head. "Just a couple of poachers who thought I was dinner. I managed to keep them from learning my true identity, thanks to my quick mind and agile body, but one of them caught me with his damn butcher's knife."

"They thought you were dinner," Lassiter said, eyes wide with unconcealed mirth. He was clearly having trouble keeping a straight face . Henry just shook his head in astonishment. Only his kid could land himself in such a crazy situation.

A spasm of pain caught Shawn unaware, and he gripped the couch cushion with enough force to turn his knuckles white. Lassiter immediately sobered up, his face taking on a look of concern. 'Wait, Lassie's concerned?' Shawn thought blearily. 'I must be hallucinating.'

Just then, voices came from outside the cabin. "Mr. Spencer? Are you OK in there? This is Missy and a patrol from the retreat. We're checking to make sure everyone's alright!"

Henry bolted for the door and flung it open, noticing for the first time that the rain had almost stopped. The retreat personnel had an all-terrain jeep with them, which had cut through the diminishing mud with ease. "We need some help!" he called as they approached. "My son ran into some poachers last night and is badly injured."

"Poachers? Here?" Missy replied, looking stunned. "Don't worry, our jeep will get us back to the main lodge, and we can call an ambulance from there. The road into the retreat should be cleared in the next 20 minutes, according to the local authorities."

As the patrol filed in to assist Shawn, Lassiter spared Missy a quick smile before returning his attention to the downed psychic. Any romantic notions had fled after the night they had endured. Now, to his surprise, he found his only concern was getting Shawn patched up and back to his usual, annoying self. Well, that and a certain phone call he planned to make as soon as they were back at the lodge - a phone call that would ensure Shawn's attackers spent some quality time in prison.


	4. Chapter 4

And here is the 4th and final chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I'm so glad people have enjoyed reading it!

Shawn blinked slowly, gazing around the hospital room at the stark white walls. He took inventory of himself first - IV, check, leg wrapped in bandages and propped on a pillow, check, and pain meds, a definite check. Next he glanced at the two chairs by the bed, one of which was currently occupied by his father.

"Well, sleeping beauty, I see you've joined the land of the living again," Henry poked, smiling.

"Yeah, seemed like you guys must be missing me by now," Shawn replied with a slight smile of his own. He vaguely remembered the ride to the lodge, the subsequent ride in the ambulance, and waking up a few times in the hospital only to be driven under again by some wonderful medication. 'Thank God for modern technology.'

"Gus was here for a few hours, said he'll return after work. Lassiter's partner was here also - I'm not sure what she sees in you, though."

"Dad! I happen to be charming and devilishly handsome, traits that definitely skipped a generation since I'm nothing like you."

"Ha!," Henry said sourly, "Just keep telling yourself that, kid." Then he turned serious, something which always made Shawn uncomfortable. "I'm glad you're OK. . . finding you in the woods like that. . . " Henry stammered to a stop.

"I know, Dad," Shawn said softly, letting his father off the hook.

Just then, the door opened and Lassiter entered, looking self-conscious. He was carrying a large pineapple wrapped in a bow under one arm, which nearly caused Shawn's jaw to hit the floor.

"I'm going to duck out and grab some coffee," Henry said, rising and heading out of the room, "I'll be back shortly."

"Um, here," Lassiter said, dropping the pineapple next to Shawn on the table and glancing furtively around the room, as if he expected someone to jump out from behind the curtains and catch him being nice.

"Why Lassie, I'm touched," Shawn replied, injecting humor into his voice although he was genuinely touched. 'Who knew Lassie had it in him,' he thought.

"Yeah, well. . . anyway, I just came by to let you know that we caught the poachers who tried to fillet you. They won't be hurting anyone or anything for a long time."

Shawn shifted slightly, wincing at the dull ache in his thigh. Lassiter moved as though to try and help, but then dropped his hands to his sides and quickly averted his gaze. "Well, thanks for letting me know," Shawn said, groping for something else to say. He wasn't used to being at a loss for words, but somehow joking didn't seem appropriate at that moment.

"OK then, I'll see you around, Spencer," Lassiter said gruffly, nodding quickly and heading out the door.

Impulse dictated Shawn's response. "Hey Lassie, I mean it - thanks."

Lassiter turned his head, looking at Shawn for a long moment. "Your welcome," he finally replied, then disappeared into the corridor.

"Well that was painful," Shawn said aloud, "I think I'd rather be stabbed again."

Sighing softly, he settled back to rest until his father returned. Closing his eyes, he couldn't help but smile - he had family and friends who cared about him, for which he was grateful. And, he now had a shiny new pineapple courtesy of one grouchy Head Detective. What more could a man ask for?


End file.
